Road to Chicago II
by alternatives
Summary: The road goes through Cheyenne.


FF_

Have We Met?

"We're going to drive the whole day, aren't we?" Robin asked.

"Denver took two days longer than we planned," answered Ham Tyler.

"At least let me drive. You can get some sleep."

"I'll drive," Alice intervened.

Ham and his associate Chris Farber exchanged glances. After twenty years of working together in and out of the military, they had developed a silent language that served them well under the lizard occupation and their struggle against it. Outsiders like Alice Penrose and Robin Maxwell, caught up in the war with no training, had learned simply to accept that these two would provide what information was necessary at the time. It didn't mean they only did what they were told. In Denver Robin had pulled a couple of hair-brained maneuvers that worked because the slim nineteen-year-old didn't look capable of standing up to an armed man, or pulling a stick of dynamite out of her pocket let alone actually setting a flame to the fuse. Chris looked amused; Tyler's stern face didn't twitch a muscle. "What would you do if somebody waved us over?" Tyler asked Alice.

"Make sure you all were under cover and rush them."

"That's why you're not driving," Chris answered. "Not that it would necessarily get us dead, but you might kill somebody we need. Sorry, Alice. It was a nice offer but we can't take the chance." Chris often had to make up for Ham's taciturnity with his hard-assed brand of affability, and he had it down cold.

"Well, at least wake us if things get weird," Robin said. "I can hit the broad side of a barn now." Part of those two days in Denver had provided her the training she begged for, tired of sitting around while other people protected her. Diana the lizard queen might be hunting her to try and get her pregnant with another Starchild like her daughter Elizabeth, but Diana was in LA and the lizards didn't come north. The Red Dust toxin developed by Julie Parrish still worked where winters were cold enough to send it into dormancy, unlike the tropics and places like LA. In Wyoming, all they had to worry about were human nasties. No sense sitting on the sidelines here. She curled up in the warm van seat and tried to doze, but she kept wondering if the survivalists were still around up here, and what four people could do against a small militia. Then she smiled to herself. Ham and Chris were a militia all by themselves. No need to worry.

Need to worry. The van's speed dropped rapidly and she could tell Ham was braking hard. Robin slipped her hand in her pocket and eased the safety off the Glock Ham had picked up for her at the Denver World Liberation Front warehouse. She played possum, however, and listened to the conversation.

"Where you headed?"

"Chicago," Ham answered.

"Nobody comes through here on their way to Chicago."

"We do."

"Why?"

"Because we goddamned well felt like it. Who are you, the frigging FBI?"

"Get out of the van and you'll find out."

"I get out of this van and you'll be sorry you didn't just wave us through."

"Words, brother. Words are cheap. What?" The man's voice got softer as he turned away from the van. Robin could hear the voice but not the words. "So what?...OK, get out of the van." He sounded mad now.

Robin rolled over to get her gun hand on top, stretched and said sleepily, "What's going on?"

Ham growled, then gunned the engine. Robin pumped a round into the chamber and shot through the open window beside him, enjoying the sight of the man who stopped them dropping his rifle and grabbing his arm. They sped past the checkpoint, chased by only a couple of bullets from the other person. "That wasn't the broad side of a barn," he told Robin.

"I'm getting good, aren't I?"

He caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror and, for Tyler, almost smiled. "Don't get cocky." Then he looked quickly at Chris.

Chris nodded and started watching the outside mirror on his side of the van. After about ten minutes he said, "Yep." Their van accelerated and the rising sun poured into their faces. Robin looked in the rearview mirror and saw a jeep chasing them. "It's an old one. Let's see if it's souped up," said Chris. Acceleration pushed Robin back against her seat. "Nope, he's turning off."

The two men looked at each other again and Robin thought, whoever was chasing us could have radioed for help. She reached in the back of the van and brought out some spare magazines, handing two to Alice. "You keep Chris stocked up and I'll cover Ham."

"You're sure you don't want to drive now?" Tyler asked.

"Only if you don't trust me not to shoot you," Robin answered.

"I'll take that chance."

Sure enough, two jeeps roared out of a side road and tried to catch up to them. These were no more souped up than the first one, but they had a better start and apparently no wounded to worry about. Bullets flew in both directions. One of the jeeps screamed out of control and flipped over, and the other broke off pursuit.

Tyler drove on for about a minute, then veered across the unfenced land to the right. Robin thought, "They'll block the road. They can't block the entire countryside."

"You don't know where they're camped," Alice said. "You could be driving right into their back yard."

"Another chance I'll take," Tyler growled.

Fifteen minutes later they knew his luck had run out when they saw the low dark buildings to their south. Ham turned north again but when the sun glanced off steel poles and the razor wire stretched between them, he let his foot off the gas a little. Chris wound back the bolt on his crossbow and put in an arrow, then lobbed a couple of grenades at the wire. Ham forced the van at the resulting gap, small as it was. The wire caught and was pulled with them, along with a couple of poles, dragging at the van but offering a veil of spikes to anybody who tried to get close enough to fire into the cab and kill the driver. Then something blew up behind them and the van's rear started dragging.

Robin crawled over the seat and found one of the machine guns they had "requisitioned" in Denver. She propped it up and fed in the cartridge belt, then waited. Ham and Chris quickly exitted to try to replace the tires; having seen her maneuver, they opened the back doors of the van to let her cover them. Alice got out on her side for the same purpose. All too soon, they heard a dull roar and a couple of jeeps bounced over a rise behind them. Alice opened up but wasted a few bullets learning that they weren't in range yet. Robin pushed the machine gun to the edge of the van floor; with more rounds to the belt than in Alice's magazine, she decided to waste a few rather than risk that the jeeps would get to them while she was trying to figure out if they were in range. When she opened up, the jeeps veered away.

"Give me that," Chris said, having finished on his side. He splatted to the ground and started firing into the sun.

They know the front of the van isn't defended, thought Robin. I am so sure. She shoved her Glock into her pocket and grabbed an assault rifle. Here came the other jeep, well within range. Just spray it, she told herself.

Ham now joined her with one of the other machine guns. The jeeps continued their death run but the firing had stopped. Ham jumped into the van, started it up and yelled at the others to get inside. Robin grabbed his machine gun, threw them both onto the seat and used the door frame to lever herself off the ground. Burly Chris almost got left behind.

The jeeps came together, exploding and showering burning wreckage on the van as Ham jammed on the gas. Robin looked through the gap left when one door of the van had failed to close, and saw diminishing figures making motions of despair.

"So much for the kamikazes," Chris said.

"They got close enough for my taste," Alice said.

"Close only counts in … uh, horseshoes and hand grenades…" Robin couldn't remember if there was more to the quote or not.

"And nuclear warfare," Chris added, then grinned at her.

"They have jeeps to burn," Alice pointed out. "Who's supplying them?"

"Not our problem," Ham answered, accelerating again. The wire dragged at the van for about another five minutes, then ripped loose and they shot forward.

"Cheyenne," Chris said ten minutes later. The van slowed.

Alice crept to the back and managed to pull the van door shut. No sense letting anybody see what was inside. "Do you suppose Cheyenne is working with them?"

"We'll suppose that," answered Ham. "I want everybody on their best behavior. Keep it zipped. I'll do all the talking."

He pulled up outside a blocky building painted civic yellow and got out. "Don't forget to feed the parking meter," Chris joked. Ham showed his canines and went inside.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Robin.

"We'll find out soon enough."

"Call them off," Ham told the man inside.

"Tyler. Call who off?"

"Whoever you sold the jeeps to."

"What jeeps?"

"Blackie, you son of a bitch, nobody has the kind of equipment you can lay your hands on and you know it. They're working for you. Call them off."

"You have two."

Tyler folded his arms and waited.

Blackie knew Tyler wouldn't give him long. "You can keep the young'un. The other one stays."

"No deal."

"Your choice."

Tyler grinned and Blackie lost his confident look. "See you."

"Well?" Chris asked.

Ham shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. Blackie runs guns, not hookers. We're gone." He opened the door to get back in. "We'll gas up down the road."

"You're not moving," said somebody from behind him.

That individual promptly was forced to swallow some teeth, and Tyler waded into his buddy before the kid could cover the casualty properly. Turning the AK47 on its former owner, Tyler said, "You need more training."

"Tyler, behind us," Alice warned.

"Don't shoot," said the tall blond fellow at the front of the squad. "I just want to know one thing. Who are you and why are you traveling with Julie Parrish?"

"Julie?" Tyler couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. He caught himself before he could ask how this guy knew Julie.

"Come out of the van, Julie," the guy called.

Robin looked at Alice. Her short blonde afro did remind Robin of the perm Julie had sported a couple of years earlier, but there was no other resemblance. The two women shrugged at each other but stayed put. Tyler could handle this.

"She didn't come out," Tyler pointed out. "Could be you made a mistake, mister." He put all of an officer's contempt for a noncom into that last word, a tone he'd never had to use in the service but knew well from Academy days.

"Julie, it's Steve, Steve Maitland." He waited. "You drugged her."

Tyler laughed sardonically. "Did you ever know anybody who could make Julie do what she didn't want to, including take a needle?"

Maitland's shoulders drooped. "No. Then who is she?"

"That's none of your business. Are you responsible for those idiots who've been trying to catch us?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is when they threaten my friends. Call them off."

"I can't."

"Then who can?" Tyler growled menacingly. "I want to talk to him. NOW."

"He won't negotiate. The price is the blonde."

"Then he's going to lose some troops and about half a city block if necessary."

"You wouldn't."

"Do you know me?"

"You were in some of the photos with Julie at the end of the war – the first war. Uh…."

"Ham Tyler."

A couple of the men behind Maitland murmured and took a step back. One tugged at Maitland's sleeve and whispered something to him. "Is Chris Farber with you?"

"What's it to you?" Chris got out of the van and the opposing side fell back even farther. One began to pull Maitland back by his down-filled vest, talking to him in urgent tones the whole time.

"OK, I get it, I get it." Maitland spread his hands helplessly. "I'll carry the message but I don't know what he'll say."

"Tell him to ask Blackie if he wants any details. Meanwhile, we're leaving. If he wants us that bad, he can send more expendables after us."

They drove six city blocks, not heeding the improvised stop signs substituted for non-working traffic lights, and then somebody ran out to the road waving at them. "What the hell is that all about?" Alice asked.

"Casanova!" Chris exclaimed.

Ham hit the brakes. "Where did he come from?"

The man ran up and hooked his hands over the window frame after Chris rolled the glass down. "Blackie called me and said you were here. What are you doing here, man?"

"You tell me," Chris answered.

"Munitions run."

"Get in," Ham ordered. "I don't want to be a stationary target after the way we've been treated in this town."

Johnnie Casanova climbed in between Alice and Robin. "Oh, I get it now," he said. "Taxes."

"You mean slaving," Chris answered. "Why is he so set on getting hold of Julie Parrish?"

"The man always wants what he thinks he can't have. Maitland blabbed too much once when he got drunk. Now Striker thinks she's the ultimate woman and he's got to have her."

"Sounds like somebody thinks a little too much of himself," commented Chris.

"It's stupid," Ham said forcefully. "Those kamikaze's could have killed her as well as us. Why are you letting somebody that stupid run your life?"

"Not me, I'm just passing through."

"Maitland: what's his story?"

"Got stuck here at the start of the winter treating some sick people. Don't know what he'll do come spring, but then again he might not live that long. Striker doesn't like failures."

"Can you get in touch with him?"

"No. Why?"

Robin thought, any friend of Julie's is somebody you don't want trapped like this. He could be used to blackmail her, tough as she is.

"Where's he staying?" Ham's tone made Robin's blood run cold, and Alice turned toward him with a jerk.

"I don't know, but most of them hole up in the MacAdam Hotel. Two blocks that way," Casanova pointed. "Why?"

"You'll see."

Ham stopped the van in an alley next to the hotel with a screech of tires. "Robin, do you think you can get out of there if I send you in?"

"The story is that Striker doesn't want me but if I don't come out pretty quick, he won't have a hotel to live in, right?"

"You catch on fast, honey."

"And the same is true if Steve Maitland doesn't get his butt out here and talk you down."

"Robin, you've just earned your stripes."

She grinned. "Look who my teacher is." She sashayed into the hotel's front door, made sure all eyes were on her, then asked for Maitland. It went pretty much as Ham had figured, and when they kept stalling Robin shrugged, said, "It's your funeral," and strolled back toward the door. They took her meaning literally and in two seconds flat Maitland came running down the stairs. He stopped dead.

"Who are you?"

"Don't waste time. There's a very angry man parked out in the alley and he wants your butt."

Once outside, Robin waved Maitland to the passenger's side and got in the back. Chris swung out, almost picked the taller Maitland up and shoved him in between himself and Tyler. Then Tyler gunned the engine and roared forward, coming out the end of the alley on the next block. "You're taking a small vacation, Doc," he informed Maitland. Tires screeched some more as he turned the corner and zoomed east.

"What are you doing?"

"Understand you were being held for ransom."

"No, I wasn't," Maitland objected.

"Any time somebody uses you as bait to get hold of one of my friends, you're being held for ransom."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I do know Julie Parrish, and I know just how loyal she is to her friends, and just how hard she takes it when she has to make the tough decisions that leave them dead. I don't want her going through that." Tyler's iron jaw set grimmer than death.

Maitland stared at him a little while. "What are you going to do with me?"

"You're going to Chicago with us. After that, it's up to you."

"Ham," Chris said warningly.

Ham looked in the mirror. "Yeah."

The women looked too, unlimbered their weapons and rolled down their windows. The cold brought tears to their eyes but the phalanx of vehicles behind them didn't require much aim. A jeep crashed and burned against one building, and a motorcycle spun out as its rider went down. But there were more right behind them.

"Turn at that corner and stop on the sidewalk facing them," Chris told Ham.

Tyler looked at him and frowned momentarily, but took the suggestion. As they turned, Chris shot a crossbow bolt into a fair-sized tree. It struck deep and then trailed a rope. Chris hauled on the rope, and the jeep and motorcycle at the front of the posse stopped just a little too late. The vehicles behind them rammed their tailpipes, but Tyler gunned his engine and passed the laggards like a shot. Maitland laughed. "I didn't think that kind of thing would work outside a Steven Spielberg film," he said.

"This is no movie," Tyler growled. He hung a couple of lefts to get back on his original bearing.

"Can I drive now?" Alice asked.

Five miles later Tyler pulled into a copse of cottonwoods and gave her the wheel. "Drive fast, and I'll tell you which exits to take," he said.

"You get some sleep. Chris knows the road," she answered.

"That's it?" Casanova asked. "You're going to just leave them there?"

Tyler looked at his watch. "Two, one," he said. "Look back."

Twin spires of flame and smoke roared up from Cheyenne, followed by a muffled boom.

"Two bombs?" Casanova asked.

"If they were stupid enough to put all their eggs in one hotel," Tyler said, "then they just paid double for their rooms."

Maitland sat stunned for a moment. "You bastard," he said.

Ham and Chris exchanged looks and Chris got ready to smack the crazy man.

"There were families in that building. You murderous son of a bitch," Maitland finished.

A whipcrack sounded in the crowded van. Maitland's hand flew to the developing red spot on his cheek.

"Shut up," Robin screamed at him. "You shut up. Don't you judge him. When people trust the wrong person, they pay. Sometimes the price is the thing they love the most. Your friend Striker is the murderer, and anybody who trusted him just paid the price for that."

Everybody in the car stared at Robin, except Alice who would have stared if she hadn't been driving.

"Calm down, girl," Casanova said.

"I will not calm down and I'm not a girl. Tyler has done nothing the whole time I've known him except try to protect people. This idiot cosies up to somebody who hides behind the Red Dust and then pretends he's a big man because he can put together a band of killers. Striker's no better than the lizards, and he was your friend," she told Maitland. "What does that make you?"

"I'm sorry," Maitland said.

"Don't tell me. Tell him," Robin ordered.

"Robin, it's OK." Tyler tried to soothe her.

"No, it's not OK. Look," Robin said to Maitland, "I'm sorry I hit you. But you listen to me. My father tried to rescue me from the lizards, but he trusted the wrong person. And my mother died, and it didn't stop anything that happened to me. He paid for trusting the wrong person, and I paid too. So I have the right to tell you that if those men messed with Tyler, they got what they deserved, even if it meant their families died."

Tyler said quietly, "I didn't know you knew."

"About Mama? Daddy woke up in the dark one morning screaming. I ran to his room and when he calmed down, he told me everything. I hated him so much. And then I thought of everything he'd done since then, and how it was me who screwed up first by leaving the bunker, and I couldn't hate him any more. Now." She turned to Maitland. "Apologize."

Tyler spoke first. "I know you meant bastard in the nicest way."

Maitland smiled ruefully. "No. I meant it just the way it sounded. I guess I needed my head set on straight."

"That meet with your approval, Robin?" Tyler asked.

"It'll do." Worn out from the rage and the confession, she leaned back in her corner of the van.

"Maniacs," said Casanova. "You're all maniacs."

"But you know," Maitland said, "you and I are probably safer with these maniacs than with Striker."

"No," Chris corrected. "Striker was the maniac. We're just stone cold professionals."

Robin closed her eyes. He's lying, she thought. They are maniacs. But they're maniacs on our side. And that gives us the edge, because who can tell what a maniac will do next? She dozed off and slept half the way to Chicago.

11


End file.
